Chapter Eighteen
Jill eased into the steaming, hissing room, a thick smell of grease in the heated air. It was some kind of a boiler room, and a big one; heavy, thrumming machinery filled the large chamber, surrounded by winding catwalks. Massive turbines spun and pounded, generating power in a steady whine as hidden ducts spat out steam at short intervals.
She moved slowly into the poorly lit chamber, peering down one of the railed walkways into the fluctuating shadows cast by the towering generators.
From where she was, she could see that the place was a labyrinth of paths, twining around the giant blocks of noisy machinery.
The source of the estate's power. That explains how they managed to keep it a secret for so long, they had their own little city out here, totally autonomous, probably had their food shipped in, too.
She turned down the narrow walk to her right, watching uneasily for any more of the strange, pale zombies that she'd seen in the corridors of B3. The path seemed clear, but with the movement and noise created by the turbines. . .
Something ripped at her left shoulder, a sudden, violent slash that tore open her vest and scraped the skin beneath.
Jill spun and fired, the roar of the shotgun drowning out the hissing machines. The blast hit metal, pellets ricocheting into the empty walk. There was nothing behind her.
Where?
A lunging, blade-like claw sliced the air in front of her face, swooping down from above.
She stumbled back, staring up at the steel mesh of the ceiling and saw a dark shape skitter out of the shadows, hooking its way across the grate incredibly fast, curving claws at its hands and feet. She caught a glimpse of thick spines around its mutant, flattened face and then it turned and ran into the thrumming shadows of the power room.
There was a door at the end of the walk and Jill sprinted toward it, heart racing, the pounding whine of the generators thundering in her ears.
She was five feet from the door when she saw the moving shadow position itself in front of her. She raised the shotgun and leaned back - - more of them!
There were two of the creatures overhead, squat, terrible things with vicious, curving hooks instead of hands. One of them dropped down suddenly, hanging by clawed feet to swipe at her with its bladed arm.
Jill fired and the creature screeched, the blast hitting it in the chest. It fell from the ceiling with a clatter, thick blood oozing out of the ragged wound.
She turned back toward the entrance and ran, hearing the patter of claws against the mesh overhead.
Another of the aberrant monkey-like things swung down in front of her, and Jill ducked, afraid to stop running. The thing's strange arm whistled past her ear, missing her head by less than an inch.
The metal doors were in front of her. Jill crashed into them, slapping one handle down and stumbling back into the cold stillness of the corridor. The door closed on the furious, shrill cry of one of the monsters, rising high over the sounds of the working machines.
She sagged against the door, gasping and saw Barry Burton standing midway down the chilled, silent hall. He hurried toward her, an expression of deep worry on his rugged, bearded face.
Jill! Are you alright?
She pushed away from the door, surprised. God, Barry, where have you been? I thought you'd gotten lost in the tunnels.
Barry nodded grimly. I did. And I ran into some trouble trying to get out.
She saw the splatters of blood on his clothing, the rips and tears in his shirt, and realized that he must have come across more of those walking green nightmares. He looked like he'd been through a war.
Speaking of. . .
Jill touched her shoulder, her ringers coming away bloody. It was painful but shallow; she'd survive.
Barry, we've got to get out of here. I found some papers upstairs, proof of what's been going on. Enrico was right, Umbrella's behind all of this and one of the S. T. A. R. S. knew about it. It's too dangerous to keep looking around, we should get those files and head back to the mansion, wait for the RPD.
But I think I found the main lab, Barry said.
Downstairs, there's an elevator at the end of the hall.
There are computers and stuff. We can get into their files, really nail 'em.
He didn't seem excited by the find, but Jill barely noticed. With the information they could get from Umbrella's database: names, dates, research material. . .
We can find out everything, present the investigators with the whole, messy package. . .
Jill nodded, grinning. Lead the way.
The tunnels had been a cold, miserable maze, but the map had led them through quickly. Rebecca and Chris had reached the first basement level, both of them shivering and wet - and not a little freaked out by the dead creatures they'd passed along the way.
The Umbrella scientists had been disgustingly creative in their approach to making monsters.
Chris rattled the door that supposedly led to the heliport, but it was solidly locked, an emergency sign next to it implying that it could only be opened by an alarm system. He'd hoped to send Rebecca out with the radio while he searched for the others.
He looked down the narrow stairwell and sighed, turning to her. I want you to stay here. If you stand by the elevator, you should be able to pick up Brad's signal from outside. Tell him where we are and what happened - and if I'm not back in twenty minutes, get back to the courtyard and wait there until help comes.
Flustered, Rebecca shook her head. But I want to go with you! I can take care of myself, and if you find the lab, you'll need me to tell you what you're looking at.
No. For all we know, Wesker already killed the other S. T. A. R. S. and is looking to finish the job. If we're the last ones, we can't risk both of us getting ambushed. Somebody has to survive and tell people about Umbrella. I'm sorry, but it's the only way.
He smiled at her, putting a hand on her shoulder.
And I know you can take care of yourself. This isn't about your competence, okay? Twenty minutes. I just have to see if anyone else made it.
Rebecca opened her mouth as if to protest further and then closed it, nodding slowly. Okay, I'll stay.
Twenty minutes.
Chris turned and started down the ladder, hoping he could keep his promise to come back. The captain had successfully deceived them all, acting the part of concerned leader for weeks while the people in Raccoon City had died and all along he'd known why.
The man was a sociopath.
It seemed that Umbrella had created more than one kind of monster. And it was time to find out how much damage he'd done.
Barry couldn't bring himself to look at Jill as they took the elevator down to B4. Wesker would be waiting for them at the bottom, and Jill would find out that he had been helping the captain all along.
He'd killed three more of the violent, springing creatures down in the tunnels before making it to the lab only to run into Wesker, who had insisted that he lure Jill down to B4 and assist him in locking her up. The smiling bastard had reminded Barry of his family's situation and promised again that it was the last thing he'd have to do, that after Jill was safely locked away he'd call his people off - - except he's said that every time. Find the crests and you're free. Help me in the tunnels, you're free.
Betray your friend. . .
Barry, are you okay?
He turned to her as the elevator stopped, looking miserably into her concerned, thoughtful eyes.
I've been worried about you ever since we got to the mansion, she said, laying a hand across his arm.
I even thought - well, never mind what I thought. Is something wrong?
He pulled the gate open and raised the mesh outer door, an excuse to look away. I. . . yeah, something's wrong, he said quietly. But now's not the time.
Let's just get this over with.
Jill frowned but nodded, still looking concerned.
> Okay. When this is over, we can talk.
You won't want to talk to me when this is over.
Barry stepped out into the short hallway and Jill followed, their boots clanking across a steel grate. The hall turned to the left just ahead and Barry slowed down on the pretense of checking his weapon, letting Jill get in front of him.
They turned the corner and Jill froze, staring into the muzzle of Wesker's raised Beretta. He grinned at them, his sunglasses hiding his eyes, his smile smug and leering.
Hello, Jill. Nice of you to drop by, he said smoothly. Nice work, Barry. Take her weapons.
She turned her startled gaze to him as he quickly plucked the shotgun from her hands, then reached around to unholster her Beretta, his face burning.
Now get back up to Bl and wait for me by the exit.
I'll be up in a few minutes.
Barry stared at him. But you said you just wanted to lock her up.
Wesker shook his head. Oh, don't worry. I'm not going to hurt her, I promise. Now get going.
Jill looked at him, confusion and fear and anger playing across her face. Barry?
I'm sorry, Jill.
He turned and walked around the corner, feeling defeated and ashamed - not to mention terrified for Jill. Wesker had promised, but Wesker's word meant nothing. He'd probably kill her as soon as he heard the elevator doors close, but what if I'm not in the elevator?
Maybe I can still do something to keep her alive. . .
Barry hurried to the lift and opened the gates, then slammed them closed and pushed the operation switch, sending it back to B3 without a passenger.
Moving silently, he edged back toward the corner, listening. . . . can't say I'm all that surprised, Jill was saying. But how did you get Barry to help you?
Wesker laughed. Ol' Barry's got some trouble at home. I told him that Umbrella has a team watching his house, waiting to kill his precious family. He was only too happy to help.
Barry clenched his fists, his jaw tight.
You're a bastard, you know that? Jill said.
Maybe. But I'm going to be a rich bastard when all this is over. Umbrella is paying me a lot of money to clean up their little problem, and to get rid of a few of you goddamn snooping S. T. A. R. S. in the process.
Why would Umbrella want to destroy the S. T. A. R. S. ? Jill asked.
Oh, not all of them. They've got big plans for some of us, at least those of us that want to make a profit.
It's you sniveling do-gooders that they don't want, the red-white-and-blue, apple pie, all that happy bullshit. The way Redfield's been running around, mouthing off about conspiracies, you think Umbrella didn't notice? It has to stop, here. This whole place was rigged to blow up just in case of an accident and the Tyrant virus escaping qualifies. Once you're all dead and this facility's destroyed, no one will be able to get to the truth.
Son-of-a-bitch was going to kill all of us.
But enough about Umbrella. I had you brought down here for a little experiment of my own. I want to see how our most agile team member stands up against the miracle of modern science. If you'll just step through that door.
Barry flattened himself against the wall as Wesker stepped back, part of his shoulder coming into view.
He put his hand on his Colt and drew it out slowly.
I can't believe that you're doing this, Jill said.
Selling out to protect a bunch of unethical corporate blackmailers.
Blackmailers? Oh, you mean Barry. Umbrella wouldn't bother with blackmail. They can afford to buy people just as easily. I made all that up to get him on board.
Barry slammed the butt of his Colt into Wesker's skull as hard as he could, dropping him like a ton of bricks.